Nocturne
by stiley
Summary: The words just stayed on his tongue, bitter and nauseating.


He hasn't thought about it before. Well, he has, just not to this extent. He's a hormonal teenager, so why wouldn't he think about a gorgeous, muscled man with perfect facial hair kissing down his neck, his chest, and to well, you know where else. Sure, he lusted over Derek when he was a sophomore, back when the whole intimidation tactic thing sent heat straight to his groin, but he got over it. What would Derek ever see in him? He's nothing but a pale teenager who spends most of his time googling stupid useless facts on the internet and wasting most of his nights staying up dreaming about what it would be like to have someone else's hands roaming his body, making his skin tingle.

He hasn't considered the romantic side. He never thought he would actually have feelings for Derek, the guy who couldn't ever speak about feelings out loud, the guy who was more emotionally constipated than anyone Stiles had ever met.

There was something about seeing Derek lying there in his own blood, unable to heal that made his heart ache. What if Derek didn't make it out alive? What if he died right there instead of coming home like he should?

Stile had pushed the thought out of his mind back then because he had other things to worry about. He needed to find Scott, Derek had even said so, so he had forced his feet to move, forced himself to push all of the rest of his thoughts to the back of his mind so he could fight like he needed to. He wouldn't make it out alive with any distractions on his mind and he knew that.

But it had been weeks since they returned from Mexico. It had been weeks since Derek had died and came back; finally evolving into what he was destined to become. It had been weeks since Stiles looked Derek in the eye after the attack, dying to say what was on his mind. He knew he never could, so the words just stayed on his tongue, bitter and nauseating.

"Stiles, are you okay," Malia ran a hand through Stiles's hair. He really needed a haircut. "You can talk to me, you know."

The words rest on his tongue, sour like the lemons he used to suck on when he was a kid, the ones that came in drinks at restaurants, but they're not as pleasant of a taste as the lemons were, back then. He leans down, pressing his lips to Malia's forehead, "I'm fine."

He won't say them, not anytime soon, that he knows for sure. He'd be ruining a perfect relationship and he'd break Malia's heart. So he'll just discard the thoughts for now, pretend they don't exist. Maybe if he tries hard enough, ignores them hard enough, they'll finally go away.

They don't. He realizes that months later during their usual "Pack Meeting" at Derek's loft. They're trying to figure out what to do with the latest problem in Beacon Hills: Faeries. Turns out, they don't do well with invasion of territory, intentional or not. Derek's doing that thing where he leans against his desk and explains what faeries are, why they do what they do and most importantly, how to get rid of them. ("Well, we shouldn't kill them," Scott starts and Derek doesn't even have to say, "I know.")

Stiles is the plan guy, everyone knows that so when everyone turns to him, he runs a blank. He can't exactly say he's been spending the entire time concentrating on how he can just barely see Derek's muscles through his shirt, or how the veins in his arms bulge out a little when he grasps the desk just right. He can't tell them that he's been daydreaming about what it would be like to have those hands shove his shirt up, over his head and trail down his body down to unbutton his jeans.

"Uh," He mumbles.

"Well," Derek's doing that thing with his eyebrows again, the thing where he raises them in a silent 'I know you weren't listening and I'm going to watch you lie,' but he doesn't say anything else.

"You said they could be good or bad, right," He starts. He had been tuning in and out. He heard some, but not all, "So they're well, either one of those. Judging by the fact that they didn't kill Liam when he stumbled into their territory, I'd assume they were of the 'good' variety, I guess," He rubs his neck, "We just have to make them realize we aren't a threat."

"How do we do that," Malia asks from her position on the couch, sprawled out across the entire thing with her head on Stiles's lap.

"Not a clue," Stiles shrugs, and then to everyone suddenly turning to stare at him, "What? I mean I don't know right now. Give me some time to think, guys."

It doesn't end the way they plan. They charge in like usual, Scott ready to talk things out with their king, but it turns out, the faeries don't like to talk. They also don't like to listen, so when Scott goes to tell them that not all werewolves are bad, they attack. Turns out, faeries are stronger than they had assumed. Stiles had a backup plan in place.

(He's perched on the desk this time, the one that Derek usually leans against when he tells about his plan. Scott has an entire drawn out map that shows the faeries territory and he points at places on the map as Stiles goes through the whole thing.

"The main idea is to make them stop and listen to Scott. He'll persuade them to stop attacking wolves in the woods and let them know we mean no harm. But if all fails and they attack, we do what we do best: fight.")

Scott manages to convince them that they didn't mean any harm. But not before the faeries full out attacked, left most of the pack bloody and beaten. Stiles has a gash to his forehead the size of a quarter and Derek's side's ripped open.

"I told you to be careful," Derek murmurs as he presses a hand against Stiles's skin, leeching the pain away. Stiles watches the veins in Derek's arm turn black, then back to normal and groans.

"You weren't."

"I heal, Stiles."

He barely feels the pain after that, but it takes Derek a while to pull away his hand anyway and Stiles tries not to wonder if there's meaning behind it. Once he gets up to help the others, Stiles finally breathes out a shaky breath. It was too much, having Derek so close but be so far.

A little over a month after that, Braeden leaves. She doesn't leave much in her wake except a heartbroken Derek, but otherwise, there's hardly a trace of her left. She's off on another job, this time in Germany and she doesn't even say goodbye to the rest of the pack. Derek, she says goodbye to when she leaves, but everyone else is left wondering. Derek doesn't want to talk about it and no one pushes.

For a while, things are rocky for the entire pack. Kira and Scott are going through a rough patch in their relationship, Derek's moody and Malia's acting strange. Stiles doesn't really have a chance to fix what's wrong because they all end up knee deep in skin, literally, because it turns out, shapeshifters quite shed their skin when changing into another form.

Stiles had expected shapeshifters to exist in Beacon Hills, but he wasn't ready for them to reveal themselves so early, not when they just spent an entire month driving sirens away. He's not prepared, doesn't want to deal with this but he knows he needs to stay strong. His friends need him right now.

They manage to defeat the shapeshifter without killing it and things stay quiet for a while. It's nice, not needing to worry about looking over his shoulder for a while, but he knows it won't last. Things will either stay good or go bad and he doesn't want to think about things getting bad again. He just wants to relax for a while, to be able to go to school without fear, and to get a full night's sleep.

It's late, almost 11 when he hears a tapping sound on his window. When he opens the window and Malia crawls through, he doesn't really know what to say. Judging by the look on her face, she isn't there for a late night cuddle session. She rubs her arms, even though it's not too cold in the room.

After a few minutes, she finally speaks, "Can I talk to you?"

He nods, "About anything."

It takes her a second, but she breathes in, almost like she's memorizing his scent. It's almost like she'll never see him again, "I don't think we should do this anymore."

"This?"

"Us."

"But what we have is good, you know?" He says, even though he knows it isn't. It hasn't been good for a while. The kisses lost their spark and she didn't make him feel the way he used to.

"You know it's not, Stiles."

It ends right there and he's almost relieved when he hugs her goodbye, let's her know that it's okay, it always will be. He's not even a little bit upset when she crawls out his window and he knows it'll be the last time she sneaks in, late at night.

He didn't think vampires were real until he had one up and close, pressing him against the wall of the high school and inches away from his neck. He could feel the vamp's teeth pressing against his skin and he in no way squeaks when the vampire bites into his neck, just enough to suck his blood, but not enough to kill.

He won't be turned; he knows that much. Like Derek had said, vampires need to make you drink their blood, and this one seems more occupied with drinking Stiles's O+ blood. He almost wants to ask what it tastes like because to people, it just tastes dull and metallic, but what would it taste like to a vampire? Would it seem fruity, or sweet, or maybe bitter? It has to taste different somehow because he just doesn't see the appeal in drinking something metallic tasting every day to survive.

Derek, and only Derek, comes to save the day. The rest are off finding the nest somewhere, so Derek was left to find Stiles, but he doesn't seem bothered by it in the least. He pulls the vampire off Stiles and stakes it in the heart. He'll later tell Scott that he had no choice to kill the vampire, but there's noticeable rage in his eyes that Stiles doesn't mention.

He presses a cloth against Stiles's neck, asks if he's okay, and Stiles nods along because he's okay. He reeks of fear, but Derek doesn't say anything about it when he lifts Stiles up and takes him to the hospital to Melissa can patch him up like usual. Stiles is a little lightheaded and when Derek sets him down on the hospital bed, he rests a calming hand on Stiles's shoulder. He almost doesn't want to remove it when Melissa arrives.

Zombies are real and it's unbelievable. The dead start to rise and soon, people have loved ones knocking on their doors and they hardly seem dead except for their overwhelming need to eat human flesh. The zombies have almost imperfect looking skin and they don't have a gravely voices or groan guttural groans.

Lydia almost gets a chunk of flesh ripped out of her arm, but Stiles pulls her out of the way at the last minute and he just wants to hold her and keep her safe, but he has other things to worry about. They're not stopped by bullets, or stabbing and the only way to stop them is to either decapitation or to kill what's bringing them back to life. Or, who, technically.

It's a witch and she's pretty, unlike the decrepit looking ones from the old movies. She doesn't have any horrifying nose moles, or green skin. She's tan, with short black hair styled into a bob and she looks like she's only a couple years older than Derek. She reminds Stiles of Jennifer Blake, except they look almost nothing alike. Their personalities, however, are almost identical.

"You can't stop me," She screeches as Kira cuts through the stone that she's using to control the zombies and what's left of any of the zombies crumble to ash.

She turns to smoke and disappears when Kira goes to slice at her, and they're left with nothing but zombie ash and a talisman that they're not really sure what to do with.

Stiles goes to pick it up, but Derek stops him, "Don't touch that. We don't want to risk it hurting you."

They call Deaton and get his permission first. He says it's used for protection, but it only works if someone's using it. It's harmless on its own and it has a word to use to activate it. They just have to avoid using any word that might trigger the hidden power within the talisman.

They end up locking it deep inside the Hale vault so it's safe. They're the only ones that know about the location of the vault and the only others that knew are dead or locked up by now, so they don't have to worry anymore.

They're all in a circle in the "living room" of Derek's loft (Get it, living room, since y'know, people died and almost died in there) eating greasy pizza. Scott thought they all needed some bonding time since the zombie thing. Kira's pushed up against Scott's side, Malia's sprawled out in front the couch, which Stiles currently shares with Derek and Liam. Lydia's in her own chair and ottoman combo that she had picked out. ("Really Derek, you need more than a couch in here. Considering how much we're here, it would be nice to have some seating that isn't flooring.")

"This is nice," Kira mumbles after she finishes chewing, "Just all of us, hanging out."

"And you know, not dying." Stiles grins.

His leg's pressed against Derek's and it's sending heat up his entire side, but he pretends not to notice it. Once they finish eating, Scott starts on about how they should do more bonding and do something together like a visit to the zoo, or an aquarium, but just something where they could have some fun.

Somewhere along the line, Stiles ends up passing out, and when he wakes up, he's wrapped in a blanket with a pillow under his head. It's dark, everyone else has gone home and he looks around, wondering who tucked him in. They could've woken him up when it was time to go, but they didn't. They just left.

"You looked tired. I thought I'd let you sleep for a while."

Derek must've heard him wake up because he walks across the room towards Stiles, whose heart is racing a mile a minute. If Derek notices, though, he doesn't say anything. If he does, Stiles can always blame it on him not taking his medication in time. He does that a lot, so it wouldn't even be a lie.

"Thanks. So I think I'll just go and get out of your hair."

Stiles goes to get up off of the couch, but Derek stops him, "You don't have to," Derek says, merely feet from the couch now and Stiles's heart is forgetting how to function properly.

The words that he's been dying to say since Mexico are still on his mind and it's taking all of his willpower not to just blurt them out, just admit that he's been lying to himself since sophomore year. It doesn't make it as easy since he and Derek are all alone and Derek's so close, smelling so good and it's driving him insane.

"Can I tell you something?" Derek asks, coming to sit down on the couch next to him, "It's stupid but," He sighs.

"Tell me what," Stiles gnaws on his lip, hoping it'll distract him from how plump Derek's lips look, and how he's dying to kiss them.

"You drive me insane. I've been thinking about it since Mexico when I noticed how you looked at me when I was just lying there. You trusted me when I told you to go, even though it may not have ended the way we wanted to, you know," He takes in a deep breath, "It meant a lot that you believed in me, that I would be okay no matter how worried you were. I've been thinking about it ever since. You keep sacrificing yourself, nearly dying in every single battle and you never give up. And that's what I like about you."

Stiles swallows saliva and breathes in, willing his heart to stop beating so fast.

"You're always there and you never back down from a fight even though you know things might not go your way. You might not come out in one piece, but that never stops you and just, shit," He leans in, cupping Stiles's cheek in his hand, "You make me crazy, Stiles."

Stiles can't help but mumble, "It's kind of my job."

Derek huffs out a laugh and leans in, finally pressing his lips to Stiles's. He's been dying to do it for weeks even if he never noticed it until just recently. Stiles tilts his head and parts his lips, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck, deepening the kiss. It's sending heat straight to his groin and he groans when Derek moves his hands to pull Stiles into his lap.

Stiles is flushed, breathing heavily when they pull away and he grins, "We should do that more often."


End file.
